Tales of the Broken Sword

Table of Contents

Issue No. 4, June 1998

"Read it or die!"







Standard Dungeon Equipment



Retributive Strike (letters, reviews, opinions, and other nonsense)

Dear Bozo (where our resident psychopathic gnomish jester imparts his "wisdom" on anyone foolish enough to ask for it)

Minstrel's Musings (poetry, riddles, jokes, etc.)

Inn of the Rampaging Dragon (for members only. Here you will find the guidelines for posting to the bulletin board)

Adventuring Advice for Amateurs (a tongue-in-cheek look at the oddities of fantasy roleplaying)

Archives (here we post our old issues in a text-only format. For those masochists who really enjoy pain)







Altered Reality



"CQB (Woodland Ops: Part II)," by Naugrim

"New Beginnings," by Brian F. Fox

"The Evolution: Part II," by Barrett (Jeff)

"Roll of the Dice: Part II," by the Fellowship





*





Retributive Strike!

*Where the editors, authors, and readers get the opportunity to say hello or express their views (no matter how ill-conceived).

Letter from the Editor

Well, here we are with our newest issue already. Once again we have some good stuff here. I found all of the stories personally enjoyable, and I laughed out loud several times at Dave's contributions ("Dear Bozo" and "Adventuring Advice"). By the way, the new name for the "Rules of Thumb" column is "Adventuring Advice for Amateurs" (I believe that this was the original name for it, and I like it much better than "Rules...").

One quick criticism, though. We need more submissions from more of our members! Even if it is something very short send it in! It all adds up for each issue. I ask that each of you send in a short work at least every other issue. This is easy to do! A serial story will allow for this very easily. Give it a try - writing can be addictive.

Last but not least, a hearty welcome to Kevin who is now fully online. I expect to see a lot from you, o founder of "The Broken Sword"! And to Dennis and John, good luck on your new endeavors! I hope they work our great for you and be sure to stay in touch. John, send in a letter or story in hardcopy if you cannot get online and I will include it.

Enjoy the issue!

-Brian F.

*

More books for the hungry masses...



Anything by R.A. Salvatore (again most of you know this name - he has several non-Forgotten Realms series now)



The Sanctuary Sparrow , by Ellis Peters (akin to The Name of the Rose - which, if you haven't read it or seen the movie (Sean Connery) is also excellent.)



Murder in Cormyr, by Chet Williamson (the story takes place in the Forgotten Realms but the book is touted as a mystery ...sloppy editing though)



Jerusalem, by Cecelia Holland (The Knights Templar!!!! ....and gritty realism!)



Vertical Run, by Joseph Garber (today's world, mega killer virus, and one man's fight to live when his death will kill the virus - nice gore too!!)



Oh, and I just discovered (even though it's been out for awhile) a series of mini-books set in the Forgotten Realms. Each mini-book is by a different author but the story line stays the same. Sound familiar? The first three are out (nine planned) which are The Abduction, The Paladins, and The Mercenaries. I haven't read them yet but it seems that each book approaches the story from a different angle. I'll let you know more later.



Oh (again), and of course Executive Order, by everyone's favorite author, was outstanding. Reminds me of a story at that stellar web site 'The Broken Sword'.



Until next time (maybe),

Barrett



*



The Dingiest Pit In Hell Award



To see a list of those foul names banished to the dingiest pit in hell, click here. May they suffer the torments of a thousand blue meanies high on aphrodisiacs! (Special thanks to Rex for the idea.)



*



Dear Bozo,

*The views expressed in this column are NOT those of the editors. Any and all threats of death or legal action should be directed solely to the author.







Dear Gnome Dude,

I'm like, a water elf, ya' know, and like, I just love to hurl my stick at

some really bitchin' waves! My parental figures can't dig the ride and say

I've got to beach the board. No can do, Bozo bud!!! The prob' here is, like,

that they reek of the international trade coin, and if I tunnel dive I lose it

all. I say, if they bite the big one, I make out! Throw me some sagacity, o'

master of the death dance.

Tim the Elf



My Dearest Tim,

I'm like, a Gnome Jester, and like, I just love to hurl my poison daggers at some really stupid elves! Your grammar and intelligence aside, I do respect your "take charge" attitude. Man, parents can be such a drag. To quote the great Beasty Boys, "you gotta fight for the right to paaarrttyy." Listen bud, you gotta just like, you know, Menendize your parental figures, man. Otherwise, they will just cramp your style and keep you down. There is nothing worse than the man keepin you down. Don't forget, you would be doing this for the best reason possible..... casho dinero, man. Might I suggest a subtle method that would give the appearance of suicide. Set them ablaze whilst they sleep and then cut their heads off and then stab them both in the back several times. But be sure to hide the murder weapon under the welcome mat at your front door. They would never look there. Last but not least be sure to write me into your will before you do this. Good luck and remember to have fun.

Bozo



*



*Dear Bozo,

I'm writing to you incognito, so no names can be mentioned. A few years back, I used to be a kind of president of a rather large coun... uh..company. Anyway after my term ended, I was put on trial for a crime that was not even committed in this...uh...company. When questioned about various incidents and secret meetings and stuff, I answered truthfully with "I don't remember." Well the problem is no one believes me. I am now the laughing stock of the whole....company. Even Dan Rather hates me know! What can I do?

Sign Me,

Up to my neck in some bad shit, That Old Gipper Guy.

P.S. Please shred this after reading it. Thanks



*Dear Gipper Guy,

I had a good answer to your letter but I can't remember what it was.

Feeling no pity,

Bozo



*



Dear Bozo,

Hey Baby. I'm a famous celebrity who has always "done it my way." I am a world class singer, a past member of the Rat-Pack, and the Chairman of the Board. I need your help man, I somehow got myself in a fix that I just can't seem to shake, if you can dig it. Who would have thunk that a powerful guy like me could die. Anyhow man, I appear to be dead and I am shackin up with some dude named Thanos. Damned its hot too. Its not so bad except that this Thanos guy don't kiss my ass like everyone else does. He don't dig my music either and makes me listen to that Skinhead O'Connor chick's tunes. Anyhow, here's the scoop, I want to be resurrected man and I ain't sure on how to go about making it happen. I already tried my mob connections and they ain't worth shit. So give me the skinny on this resurrection bag and make it snappy.

Sign me,

Ole Blue Eyes



Dear Ole Blue,

You sound like a man with a real dilemma. Let's see.....how to get resurrected......that one is a toughy. I specialize in helping people who want to become un-resurrected. You should have made provisions to avoid death like the rest of us. I, for one, employ magical means to protect myself and of course I kill all of my enemies before they kill me. Have you thought about becoming a minion for Thanos. At least you would get some "out of office" time. But hey, buck up little camper, you may get reincarnated. I could picture you as a blue eyed black dragon. "Hey you, get off of my cloud." Anyway, I can't help you but if you know of anyone who desires to become un-resurrected, I'm your gnome.

Bozo

P.S. Give my best to Thanos.





* from the archives



*



Minstrel's Musings

*Poetry, riddles, and various ramblings...





There is a thing that is nothing and yet it has a name. It's sometimes tall and

sometimes short, joins in our talks, joins in our sport, and plays at every game.

[Brian F. Fox]

[Answer: shadow]



*

You know your in trouble when:



After warrior training you're given a coat of arms that looks like a bulls-eye....

Your new nickname is "cannon fodder"....

Your new nickname is "dragon bait"....

You just spilled beer onto Bozo's shoe (not because of the shoe,

but because you spilled the BEER!).....

You finally cast your first magic missile... and you were pointing at Martek....

You pilgrimage to the grand temple of Zeus, enter the hall of the holies,

stub your toe and in pain yell, "Zeus be damned!"

You believe the halfling when he says "I'll wait right here." ......

You believe the halfling when he says "Doing? I wasn't doing anything." .....

You're in a bar and someone jumps up on a table and yells, "I'm going adventuring!

Anyone who wants to join me, meet me outside!" ....





Barrett



*



What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks. Has a bed but never sleeps,

has a head but never weeps.

[Brian F. Fox]

[Answer: river]



*



What's in a Gnome??*



When I encounter a gnome that's much too close

I want to draw my axe and cut off his nose

I want to take my axe in powerful hand

and hack his body into the sand

It would be sweet to force his death

to suck from him his dying breath

To see his lifeless body still

makes me proud and glad to kill.

Many questions why I roam to and fro

I then say nothing's better than a dead Bozo.



Balin Broken Shield, Esq.



P.S. Those of you who don't recognize my poetic skill will be the victim of my next kill.





*From BS June 1990 # 4, Vol 2

** Editor's Note: Sort of brings tears to your eyes, doesn't it?



*



Adventurers' Advice for Amateurs



(Formerly known as Murphy's Laws for the AD & D Adventurer)

* From the Archives - Originally printed in Broken Sword 4/90



1. Never trust a Paladin with an imp familiar.

2. Never trust an imp familiar with a Paladin.

3. Any Paladin played by Ralph will soon become an Anti-Paladin..

4. Ragging on the DM increases the chance you'll meet the Tarrasque and is thus bad for the health of a campaign.*

5. You should always be wary of any character who offers to be last in the marching order and first in taking watch.*

6. Any character who doesn't fit the above rule is more devious in hiding their evil intents and thus should be killed immediately.*

7. All NPC's are called JoJo or Bob for lack of a better name.*

8. Never trust a character who thinks that rape is "mandatory" and "hanging low" means being inconspicuous.*

9. Gnome jesters are like Cheerios....they're unsinkable! (A word of warning from Bozo)*

10. A Barbarian Fighter named Bubbles is not a Barbarian Fighter.



*



"CQB"

Woodlands Op: Part II



by



Naugrim





CQB, otherwise known as Close Quarters Battle, is a system of training and close in fighting that focuses on short reactionary gaps, weapon retention, getting 'on-target' quickly, and fighting in confined spaces. It is an essential part of all tactical team's training due to the need to conduct dynamic or stealth entries on high risk warrant service or searches. As we were soon to discover, that training was about to be called into play.

The bank robbers had had a pretty good start and it was obvious they were well concealed somewhere in the area. The multi-agency task force that had sealed the area were in place and it was only a matter of time. Chief Hinman, Sheriff Vandiford and the SAC FBI had already determined that this net of law enforcement wouldn't budge until every possible hiding place in this cordoned off section of the county was searched. We were sitting down at the command center waiting for more information (ERT was only used for point searches�not perimeter watch) when we got a break. It seems that one of the detectives got a good picture form the bank cameras, burned copies, and started working the net of informants that the detective division ran. The lure of $2500.00 in Crimestoppers money was apparently too tempting and one of the robbers was identified. From there it was determined that this particular suspect's girlfriend lived in a trailer park in our secured area. We were back on.



Fighting in a mobile home is no easy task. Fortunately, I was no stranger to this type of CQB. You see, I lived in a mobile home in Southern Putnam County when growing up. There were many weekends that it was just myself and Dennis stalking each other through the trailer. When I say stalking, I mean one of us would be armed with the decorative wall hanging sword that belonged to my dad, the other would have a diamond-tipped arrow. As I walked down the creaking hall searching for my nemesis, out he would pounce. A furious sword fight ( of sorts ) would ensue and depending on who was disarmed first ( weapon retention) that would determine who would race into the bathroom to get the dreaded toilet plunger of death. Cover and concealment were sparse and in the heat of battle, things broke.



Now, imagine taking that up a notch and adding automatic weapons. We scouted the trailer and quickly drew up entry plans. First, other nearby trailers were quickly and quietly evacuated in case there was gunfire. A rearguard was positioned at the rear of the trailer in a tree line. Two snipers were deployed on angles to cover the front and right and the rear and left sides of the trailer. The point cell had a ballistic shield in front. Myself and Sgt. Johnson, Cell 3, were immediately behind the point cell at the front of the stack. We approached in a tight stack-quick step with weapons trained on all windows and doors. As we neared the front door, Sgt. Johnson stepped off to the right as I quietly reached for the door knob, my Benelli slung from my combat sling pointing toward the door. My guts were wrenching as I thought about the possibility of the bank robber shooting through the flimsy door, striking me and the team. As I turned the knob, Sgt. Johnson positioned himself with his MP5 to cover the interior.



The plan was that I'd get the door open and step off the porch. While Sarge covered the left, the point cell would make a dynamic entry to the right followed by cell 2, then cell 3. Well, as the door came open, Sarge, acquired a target. "Show me your hands" he began to yell to the suspect who was lying on the couch. The point cell entered to the right under Sarge's MP5 and I entered next. While the target was covered, the other cells quickly swept the trailer screaming "Police�search warrant!!!"



The suspect was lying on a couch under a blanket. Both hands were held out in front of him. I slung my shotgun behind me, pulled out cuffs, then grabbed one of his arms, speed cuffed, and dragged him on the floor. He was quickly cuffed and searched. A loaded .357 long barrel was located in the couch cushions. After securing the rest of the trailer, we exited with the prisoner. No shots fired and all of us were in one piece. It was a smooth operation and our CQB training had paid off.



Subsequently, the second bad guy ended up turning himself in after another 10-12 hours of lying in a watery, muddy culvert. The operation was a complete success. As for my part, I was well trained for an operation like this. But the training began long before the shoot-don't shoot drills of SWAT. It began in rural Putnam County , oh so long ago�



- Fin



*





"New Beginnings"



by



Brian F. Fox





"Welcome back, Myloeh. It has been quite some time since we last had the pleasure of your company," Thalgren said as he sat back in his chair. Myloeh looked about the chambers of the Thieves Guild master, noting that there were six others present besides them. Two rough-looking thief/warriors were always present as Thalgren's personal bodyguard, and he was not surprised to see Darus, the guildmaster's elven advisor, present as well. The other three, however, were various ranking members of the guild, none particularly well known to him. "Have a seat, have a seat. We have much to discuss," the guildmaster continued. Myloeh bowed to Thalgren and then sat in the chair presented to him, looking up at the guildmaster seated in his large chair on the podium before him. It was obvious that the arrangement of furniture was designed to give the guildmaster a position of superiority over his visitors, something Thalgren always desired. The halfling always hated being stripped of his weapons when summoned to the chambers of the guild master (an unpleasant experience he had had several times before), especially in light of the fact that the bodyguard and Thalgren were always heavily armed, both with conspicuous and inconspicuous weapons. Myloeh knew he was about to play a dangerous game with the guildmaster, and he could afford to make no mistakes.



Myloeh had been gone for more than a year and a half, studying under the watchful eye of the dragon Straken. Straken taught him much in their time together, from the basics of wizardry and enchantments to ethics. She had been a demanding teacher, requiring him to study endlessly from the tomes she had hoarded over the centuries and challenging him at every turn. It was quite common for her to polymorph into a monster or humanoid and spar with him in order to develop flexibility in his thinking and spell casting. She was not cruel, however; she was often sympathetic when his lessons did not go well, sharing many stories of famous wizards (both dragon and humanoid) who had shared similar difficulties during their apprenticeships. She had seemed sincere when she said (on those rare occasions) that he possessed a certain talent for wizardry, especially for the more subtle uses of it, a thing for which she definitely approved. He was still very proud of these compliments, and whenever he thought back to them he felt a little bit more confident in his new skills.



After a sad farewell, Straken sent him out into the world to "stretch his wings" (Myloeh often felt as if she treated him as one of her own hatchlings). He had traveled on foot all the way back to Drakmar, a journey which had taken over two months and which had provided several adventures along the way. Shortly after he had arrived in the city, he was contacted by one of the guild's messengers and instructed to report to Thalgren immediately. He debated whether to answer the summons, but finally decided that he had to do what he had come for. Delays would only make things worse.



"Now tell me what you have been up to this last year. I have heard nothing from the mage Barish and feared the worst for you," Thalgren said with his crocodile smile.



"I am very sorry to have worried you," Myloeh smiled back, "but I have been indisposed. I really should have sent word now that I think about it."



"Yes, you should have," Thalgren replied. "I was promised a great sum for providing the services of the guild to Barish, a sum which was to be paid upon the completion of your little expedition. Then I hear that you have suddenly showed up in the city, after months of hearing nothing. I am still expecting payment, of course."



"I am sorry to inform you that no payment will be forthcoming," Myloeh said. "Our expedition, as you refer to it, fell to disaster. Your agreement with the mage almost cost me my life, and no little discomfort in the process. You should expect no payment or word from Pallin Barish."



Thalgren studied the little halfling carefully, pausing for several moments before giving a reply. "Myloeh, we've had our little disagreements in the past, but let us let bygones be bygones. If you say that the expedition amounted to nothing, I will of course accept that with no suspicions."



"My thanks, my good guild master," Myloeh replied with almost no sarcasm in his voice. "You honor me with your confidence."



"Indeed," Thalgren said coolly. "Oh, one thing, though: you have been gone over a year. What have you been up to with yourself? The guild has had need of your services many times over the last year, putting many of your fellow guild members to great pains to cover for you."



Myloeh considered his words carefully before he spoke. "I have had personal business to attend to, which I unfortunately cannot reveal. It in no way conflicted with my duties to the guild, though, I assure you."



"I beg to differ, Myloeh," Thalgren said leaning forward in his chair. "Your absence has cost the guild a fair sum of money based on your average take each month, an amount I insist we recoup now that you have returned."



Myloeh had expected Thalgren to be a real hard-nose about this because of his dislike for him. Although guild rules did allow for this penalty to be imposed, it was traditional to look the other way in most cases. The halfling cleared his throat nervously before answering. "My apologies, guild master. I regret to inform you, though, that I wish to take leave of the guild, effective immediately. There are things I must do that I cannot do within the structure of this guild. My sincere appreciation for all that you have done for me is given, though," the halfling replied.



The room was silent, and all eyes turned to Thalgren. "You wish to leave our little fellowship after all that we have done for you? After all that I have done for you?"



"As I said, my gratitude is given, but with all due respect my mind is made up," the halfling answered.



Thalgren regarded the small figure carefully. "You have changed much in your absence, Myloeh, but your memory has suffered. You are well aware of the guild's policy toward membership: it is for life. No one leaves our number, ever."





"I am well aware of the traditions and expectations of the guild," Myloeh said with a note of anger in his voice. "It is for these reasons that I have brought this," the halfling said as he produced a small pouch from within his leather vest. Myloeh held it out and it was taken by a guard who quickly opened it and looked inside. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open.



"Well, what is it you idiot?" Thalgren shouted at the guard. The guard immediately handed the pouch over to him and returned to his post. Thalgren looked inside and then poured the contents out in his hand. Several of those present drew in their breaths when they saw the gems which filled the guild master's palm. Thalgren pulled a jeweler's glass from his pocket and began to examine several of the gems, nodding with approval. "I am impressed and amazed. I thought your expedition met with failure?"



"It did, at least for Barish. I bring to you all of the wealth I gained from the trip as a token of my gratitude and as a parting gift to you," Myloeh said. It was almost all of the wealth Straken had given him; the rest he had entrusted to a dwarf who was a long time friend and stalwart companion. It was the dragon who had encouraged him to take leave of the guild and who had suggested offering a payment to release him from his indenture. Myloeh would have preferred to simply avoid the guild, but Straken thought this was no way to begin a new life. She could be so demanding, he thought to himself. "There have been exceptions to the rule made in the past, and I am hoping you will be willing to make one for me."



"You wish to leave, do you? Where will you go? What will you do? You have always been a thief and always will be one. If, and I do mean if, I allow you to leave, you realize that you will be forbidden to practice thievery within the boundaries of the guild or to reveal guild secrets upon pain of death, and you will no longer receive the protection of the guild. Is this what you seek?" Thalgren asked.



"It is," Myloeh replied immediately. "I accept these conditions without reservation."



Thalgren thought for several moments, weighing his options. He could simply seize the gems, but if he did so the rest of the guild would see that as an obvious violation of guild protocol. If he arranged for an accident for the halfling, the guild would also see this as an obvious breach of his responsibilities and honor as guild master. No thief, not even the guild master, was allowed to steal from another thief, upon pain of death. And Myloeh had many friends in the guild, friends who might desire revenge if something untoward happened to the little insect. If he attempted to force him to stay he might also face opposition from Myloeh's allies, as well as from those who opposed his leadership of the guild. Damn that halfling! Why couldn't he have made his request in private! His impudence could have been dealt with easily then.



Myloeh watched Thalgren anxiously, doing his best to remain calm and collected. If Thalgren decided to act rashly and attack him here and now, Myloeh knew he would have to use all of his skills to make it out of the guild alive. Darus looked carefully at the halfling for several moments, then leaned over and whispered something to the guild master. Myloeh's hearing was exceptional, even for a halfling, but Darus spoke very softly and shielded his mouth with his hand. Thalgren looked very angry and then nodded his head as if in agreement. "I have made my decision," Thalgren announced to the room. "Because of his long loyal service to the guild, and because of the great gift which he presents to the guild's coffers, I hereby grant Myloeh his request. From henceforth let him no longer be recognized as a guild member; he is stripped of all privileges and protections our fellowship offers. Upon pain of death you will not reveal any information regarding our guild or its membership or engage in any manner of thievery whatsoever. Now begone from our guild hall, never to return. Guard, escort him out."



As Myloeh was escorted out of the guild's secret underground complex he passed several thieves who saw the guard with him and greeted him with concern in their voices. Myloeh felt a touch of sadness and loss over his decision; after all, he was leaving the only life he had ever known, and most of the friends he had. He did not really regret his decision, though. This was a new beginning for him, and he was not about to mourn the loss of his former life. The trick now was to stay on his toes and remain alive; it would not take long for Thalgren to make a strike against him. There were several people who had an axe to grind against the halfling, any of which could be blamed for something "unfortunate." For now, though, he would simply enjoy the moment.



*



"And now you know where I've been," Myloeh said to the dwarf seated across from him. The dwarf looked carefully at the halfling as if weighing the story he had just heard. He then lifted his mug and took a long drink, wiping his mouth and beard on the sleeve of his leather armor. The Inn of the Rampaging Dragon was fairly quiet this evening, allowing the two to conduct their conversation with few interruptions.



"Good story, I'll give you that. When you showed up yesterday with that sack of jewels I figured you were on the run after pulling off a big job, but something made me agree to hold them for you. I trust my gut on most things, even when you're involved," the dwarf said.



"And that is why I trusted you with my pouch," Myloeh said looking at the small bag of gems the dwarf had returned to him. "Hobarrh, do you think I did the right thing?"



"Leaving the guild? Absolutely. Never thought you should be hanging around and working with that pile of scum. I didn't think you would amount to much of a warrior but at least you could live with more dignity as a merchant or farmer or some such," Hobarrh replied.



Myloeh smiled at the dwarf and took a sip of his ale. "I just felt as if I needed to do something different with my life, and I saw the opportunity and seized it. I guess I just slowly came around to your way of thinking. You've had a good influence on me, I suppose."



"Spare me the crap," the dwarf said with a laugh. "And now I'm supposed to believe that you have been studying wizardry, and that you, a halfling thief, are now a wizard?"



The halfling smiled. "Strange, I'll admit. And I'll also admit to not being much of a spellslinger. But I'm learning. Besides, I never really was much of a thief."



"Hah!" the dwarf replied. "Don't I know it." He reached for his pipe and began packing it with tobacco. When he had finished he signaled for the barmaid to bring him a light.



"Allow me," the halfling said with a wave of his hand. A small flame appeared at the end of his index finger, which he held out. The dwarf arched an eyebrow and then lit his pipe.



"Nice trick. Know many more?" Hobarrh asked.



"A few, but Straken made me promise to always be sparing in my use of wizardry. It's rather complicated, but each use affects the flow of mana, or magical energy, which flows through the multiverse, much like a pebble makes ripples when you throw it into a pond. The idea is to make as small ripples as possible," the halfling explained with a shrug.



"Save me the explanation. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you know some wizardry," the dwarf responded gruffly. "If you want you can rent a room in the Golden Slipper Inn in the High Quarter where I'm staying. It's been a long day and I feel like turning in."



"As do I," Myloeh said with a yawn. The two paid their bill and rose to leave. "After you," Myloeh said when they reached the door.



Hobarrh arched an eyebrow and waved the halfling through. "After you, and I insist," the dwarf replied. Myloeh shrugged and went through the door, looking both ways carefully before stepping outside. The street was dark and dimly lit by a few torches which lined the street.



"A copper for a poor beggar," a dirty and ragged man said as he approached them. "Please, good sirs, spare a copper or two for a poor crippled beggar."



"Of course," Myloeh said as he reached for his pouch. Hobarrh groaned audibly and looked about for anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Suddenly the two heard the sharp "twang" of a bow string from a roof top above and to their right. Myloeh tucked and rolled to the side, hiding behind a barrel sitting by the road, while Hobarrh quickly unslung his shield and drew his axe, crouching slightly and peering around the edge of his shield. There was a loud thud as a body fell from the roof across the street, landing only fifteen feet from them.



Out of the corner of his eye Hobarrh saw the beggar draw a dagger hidden within his rags and moved to stab down at the halfling. Quickly and powerfully he flung his shield like a disk at the assassin, striking him squarely in the neck, killing him instantly. Myloeh's eyes opened wide at this, and he drew his short sword and dagger, snatched up the shield, and moved to the dwarf's side. "Nice move. You should consider competing in the games next month," the halfling said as he handed the dwarf his shield.



"Maybe I will if we survive this," Hobarrh smiled wryly. Two more assassins approached, one from each side, both wielding rapiers and daggers. "Watch the blades, they're poisoned," Hobarrh said over his shoulder. "You can see it in the torch light."



"I'll keep that in mind," Myloeh replied. The assassins attacked simultaneously, each striking at one of the pair. Myloeh preferred to move freely during combat, dodging and tumbling to confuse and confound his opponents, but because of their situation he must protect Hobarrh's back, which meant he had to parry all attacks. "I wish I had that shield of yours now!" he shouted. The attacks came furiously, and the two were pressed hard. Suddenly the assassin fighting Myloeh lurched forward, then spun around to fall face first in the dirt with an arrow protruding from his back. Hobarrh, seeing that Myloeh was free for the moment, leapt to the side and flung his shield at his opponent. The assassin knocked it aside, only to be met by Hobarrh's axe which the dwarf had thrown at the man's chest. The man fell backward and lay still. Hobarrh quickly pulled his axe free and spun to face any new opponents.



His eyes fell upon a small figure, no taller than Myloeh, holding a short bow. The small 'man' wore grey leather armor and a cloak, and his face was hidden by a leather mask. The grey figure made a quick gesture of some sort to Myloeh, who returned with a quick hand signal as well. The two looked at each for several moments, then suddenly grabbed each other in a bear hug and laughed loudly. "What is the meaning of this?" the dwarf demanded.



"Khypp Stealthstep, at your service," the now obvious halfling said with a graceful bow.



"Well met, cousin!" Myloeh said clasping his hand.



"Cousin?" Hobarrh said in disbelief.



"First cousins on our mothers' side," Khypp replied with a smile.



"By all the gods," the dwarf said in disbelief. "As if things couldn't get worse."



"I sent for him as soon as I came to the city. I suspected that there might be trouble after I left the guild, so I told him to look for me and keep an eye out for any mischief," Myloeh explained.



"And that I did," the grey-clad halfling said with a smile. "Good to see you again, cousin. What has it been, over a year?"



"A bit more," Myloeh corrected.



"Maybe we had better clear out of here before the patrol comes. Someone surely called for them by now," the dwarf interjected.



"Good point," Myloeh said. The three quickly searched the bodies for any evidence of who they were or any valuables and then fled down a side street and into a blind alley. Moving a crate aside, Khypp revealed a hidden door which led into a rather dingy apartment. Leading the way in, the halfling carefully restored the crate to its previous position.



"We should be safe here. As Myloeh already knows this is one of the guild's safe houses," Khypp said.



"You are also in the thieves guild?" the dwarf asked.



Khypp only smiled in response. "Well, you were absolutely right, cousin. Thalgren was far more ruthless than I suspected he could be. I thought he might move against you, but not so quickly and so openly. Very tacky," Khypp commented.



"Indeed," Myloeh replied. "I'm not sure if he was out for revenge or suspected that I might have more wealth, or probably a combination of both. You had better watch your step now. If anyone saw you tonight you will be next."



Khypp smiled. "I was extremely careful. While you two caught up on old times in the Dragon I searched the area. We got them all. What I plan on doing, though, is letting everyone in the guild know what a rotten trick our beloved leader pulled on you. This may be exactly what his enemies need to relieve him of his position."



"One can only hope," Myloeh said with a nod. "But be careful nonetheless."



"This is too much. Once again you've sucked me into a mess, halfling," Hobarrh grumbled. "You mean to tell me that those were Thalgren's men?" The dwarf was obviously not at all pleased with the situation.



"Most assuredly," Myloeh said. "The guild master keeps a small group of hand-picked assassins always ready to do his personal dirty work or to tidy up problem situations for the guild."



"Cheer up," Khypp said as he threw his arm around the dwarf. "This place is well stocked." Digging threw a bit of trash he quickly found several bottles of wine hidden in the debris.



"I don't understand all this guild politics nonsense, but now you're making sense," the dwarf said as he took a bottle.



*



"Welcome back, Lord Barish. You have been absent for quite some time," the demon said with a malevolent tone.



Pallin Eldritch Barish blinked several times and looked about the room. He lay on the floor in the middle of a large carefully and intricately inlaid circle which was carved and marked with a number of arcane symbols. A large winged hairy demon stood in a pentagram ten feet away, but he instinctively felt no fear of it for some reason. His mind was extremely foggy, though, and he found that he was having difficulty thinking clearly. "Where am I?" he demanded.





"Your mind should clear in a short while. You are in the vault you prepared in the event of your untimely demise, where you had left a series of enchantments designed to regenerate your body and reunite it with your spirit. You imprisoned me several years ago with the agreement that if you were ever absent for more than six months I was to activate the spells, a deed which I have obviously done," the demon said with a wicked smile. "I am now free, as per our agreement," the demon reminded him.



"A moment," the mage replied. His memories were slowly returning to him, but he found himself still hazy about how he had come to be here. "Are you telling me that I died, and that I have been resurrected through some manner of my own wizardry?"



"Precisely," the demon replied. "I see your mind is clearing up a bit. Your memories will soon return, I would imagine."



Pallin suddenly realized that he was naked. Looking about the room he saw several packages neatly stacked nearby, obviously left in readiness for himself if necessary. Searching through them he quickly found a complete set of clothes and a variety of other objects, including weapons. He also found two scrolls and a spell book. On one of the scrolls he found several spells, while on another was a rather lengthy note written to himself, outlining the plans for the mission which he had apparently gone on. The expedition would be searching for the grimoire of the dragon Straken. There was listed the name of his servant, Raven, as well as the name of a halfling named Myloeh who he had selected to join them. At the reading of these names his last living memories came flooding back to him.



"The Diamond Blade!" he screamed. "That rodent betrayed me and cost me my life and my Diamond Blade!"



"Interesting that you have lost the sword, lord magus. I would love to hear the tale of your betrayal and death, but if you would release me from the spells binding me first?" the demon asked.



"Wait!" Pallin snapped back. "I must have time to think!" Grabbing his head with both hands he struggled to recall all of his last memories. The halfling had betrayed him to the dragon, costing him not only his life but the sword he possibly valued even more. His sorcerous training was also quickly returning, as was the full realization of what his position now was. The spells which had brought him back to life had also left him weakened in body as well as wizardry. He was not the mage he had been, and without the Diamond Blade and other powerful objects of sorcery he once had he was even weaker still. This crushing realization was almost too much for him to bear, and he fell to his knees. Clenching his fists tightly he began pounding on the floor. "Damn that halfling! I curse him before all the gods and I'll see him damned to the lowest plane of the Abyss!"



"Excuse me for interrupting, but I really must insist you honor your bargain! Release me now!" the demon growled at him.





Pallin slowly looked up and smiled cruelly at the demon. "You think me quite the fool, don't you? Do you think that I will still be so addled that I would forget to protect myself before releasing you? That is why I left this scroll for myself!" Pallin shouted as he waved the other scroll before the demon. The creature roared with fury but was still unable to break its bonds.



Pallin quickly read a spell from the scroll, and he was suddenly surrounded in a bright circle of light. Motioning as he read again, the furious demon suddenly disappeared in a flash of light and foul smelling smoke. Pallin paused for several moments, collecting his thoughts and composing himself. "I must get my bearings back first. I should check on my tower and then visit the guild in Drakmar. There will be time enough for revenge later," he said out loud to himself. Gathering all of the items he left for himself he read the final spell on the scroll and disappeared in a bright flash of light.



*



"The Evolution: Part II"



by



Barrett



It had been two weeks since the death of Edmin's brother. The company had traveled about fifteen miles a day - every day - in that time, and the slow pace had given everyone a chance to recover from the battle. Whether it was the grace of the Nine or just pure luck, no scout saw an enemy and fat, succulent great-lizards arrived almost every night as the company dug their barricades. The weather stayed bearable with cool night breezes and warm, but not blistering, desert days. The warriors began to whisper about their good fortune; some praised it and others were distrustful of it. "Never have we lived so well as soldiers." the sergeant-captain proclaimed one night, and every man in the company agreed.



*It is good that you have healed their hearts and bodies. You are assuring their loyalty to the Lanmouroul name*



"Rathmulg, you have been filling my mind with your flattery and promises and it grows old. I call the lizards to feed en-circled men, and I keep the sun's heat at bay to help the wounded. I do not do these things as bribes. Besides, I can hear the whispers; many are fearful of such good fortune.

Perhaps I shall have to let them suffer."



*You could not do that. It is not in your heart. But you see, you already agree that you decide their future.*



"That's... that's not what I meant! Leave me be Rathmulg. Be gone from my mind!"

*For now...*



***



With one hand Kiekold wiped at the snot dripping from his nose, and with the other hand plucked yet another blood engorged tick from Baikel's hairy back. Only the tick's body came loose this time. As Kiekold watched the head of the tick squirm out of Baikel's skin, he dropped its body into his mouth and popped it open between his incisors spraying blood onto his bottom lip. "Yes, the ticks of this hill are oh, so fun." Kiekold spat while looking for another one. He and Baikel were forward scouts - expendable - and they had found a nice sleeping hole in the center of a hill. Even better, there were dead corpses (well of course they were dead, they were corpses) lining the bottom of the hole. Corpses that had pretty playthings like the ring on Kiekold's thumb. Which reminded Kiekold, they hadn't finished looting the second corpse before Baikel had started scratching. He turned away from Baikel, began to unbutton the corpse's shirt and heard Baikel grunt. He turned back towards Baikel and saw him slumped forward onto the lip of the hole. "Stupid cousin Baikel. You sleep when I sleep and not before!"

Kiekold roughly grabbed his cousin's shoulder and spun him around only to see him collapse into the hole. Perhaps it was the gaping cleft in what had been Baikel's face, but Kiekold knew something was wrong. He looked up just as a large ax descended towards his own face. He screamed and the axe swished by, missing his nose hairs by less than an inch. The human warrior, so sure of such an easy kill, could not stop his momentum and tumbled head first into the hole, landing beside Baikel. Kiekold leapt onto the human's head clawing and scratching and screeching like the goblinoid he was. He was ferocious and furious, pulling hair and gouging at eyes. He was...surrounded! "Get this thing off of my head!!" the warrior yelled, standing up and

trying desperately to loosen the creature's grip.



As Kiekold rode the human's head up out of the hole, he saw an opening for escape between the legs of one of the other men that surrounded the hole. Taking the only chance he knew he would have, Kiekold dove for freedom and actually made it through the man's legs. He was up and running, rolling and twisting, squealing loudly and begging for mercy. The reply to his requests

was a deluge of daggers, arrows, axes, and sling stones... which somehow all missed. He kept running (and squealing) until he reached the main goblinoid camp (five miles away) where he was stopped by a wall of guards around the goblinoid chieftain. Then it all came back to him in a rush... and he promptly fainted.



*Magic! It had to be magic! There is no way that ten of your warrior scouts could have missed a weakling goblinoid. *



"They are not 'my' warriors, Rathmulg!! And stranger things have happened in our world. You, of all...things, should know that." Edmin murmured back. "One thing is certain, though, if the creature escaped, tomorrow we will see battle. The goblinoids will not tolerate us on their land."



*Prepare for battle. Choose a flat, open ground and we will fight in the 'Lanmouroul Diamond'. There can only be a hundred or so of them in those hills. We will rout them quickly.*



Edmin began, and soon a plan for battle was formed.



The sun had barely begun it's climb into the sky when the company's sentries sent the call down the line. "Tis a dust cloud, my lord, and glints of metal at the top of the far dune."



"So soon?", Edmin asked, "They must have already been campaigning to have raised their army so quickly. No matter, we are ready. Form the diamond, archers around me and mine, ax men and pole arms right behind the first rank."



They stood and waited, growing restless in their armor and in the growing heat. Finally, the dust cloud began to descend down the hill and the warriors heard the distant screeches of the goblinoid army.



Ten minutes passed and suddenly Edmin grew wary. "Something is not right." he said aloud. "Ten minutes and the cloud still grows. Does anyone see the end of cloud?" he called.



*There are stories of a goblinoid clan that feasts on it's own. It grew and became self sustaining because the number of births came to equal the number killed for food. Edmin, perhaps...*



"I have killed these men, Rathmulg. I was quick to decision, and I have killed a company of Circle warriors. Why in the name of the Nines was I sent here only to fail."



*The battle has not even begun and already you are defeated? Perhaps I was wrong about you, Edmin.*



"Quiet damn you! You fill my head with praises and convince me of my position, and now...now I am leading less than two hundred against a thousand! .... Well, your steel will serve me even if your intellect will not. I will die and you will have a goblinoid as your master!"



*No one has ever been master over me...*



"Men that serve the Circle, warriors that defend the Nine, today we fight under the eye of Balrush the god of fire, and on the ground given us by Erthren the god of stone. As we believe, they will serve us. As we live, they rejoice. As we die, they recall us to their hearths for comfort and

...strong ale!!!! Fight with me now and be glorious for Moruk, your patron! Fill your arms with his strength and your hearts with his song! Fight with me now and your faith will help you live on!!" Edmin shouted. "Now, for the greater good.....we fight!!!"



His warriors roared their response and met the goblinoid hoard with a terrible fury. In the diamond formation they tore through the ranks of creatures, tossing and hacking them down. They had been inspired by Edmin's call to arms and they were dizzy with the bloodlust they were trained to feel. Surrounded by a legion, they had no man fall.... until the ogres began their

rampage. Twenty goblinoids fell to each warrior who went to Moruk, but the tide began to turn against the company. Then, finally, the diamond was shattered and the ogres charged through toward the inner circle surrounding Edmin. Never had Edmin witnessed such intensity in battle. Warriors who had lived through a hundred campaigns gave their lives to spare Edmin's, and

Edmin....Edmin felt fear. Now only the nine warriors who were Edmin's personal guards remained around him, and one huge champion ogre led the fight towards that tight circle. There were other pockets of warriors fighting together, purposely fighting in groups of nine. However, none of the lesser circles were close enough to Edmin's to help in this final attack.



The ogre champion battled three of Edmin's nine, holding them at bay. The lesser goblinoids took advantage of the opening and charged through the hole. For the first time in the battle Edmin had to fight, and his sword began to ring as it sliced through the air. Had they not been lesser goblinoids perhaps Edmin would have fallen, but the little training that Zekil had given him showed it's worth and Edmin dispatched them quickly. Thinking to close the hole in the circle Edmin stepped up and came face to face with the huge ogre. To Edmin the world became quiet. The battle raged around him and he saw only the blade of the ogre's two-handed sword rise up for the killing blow.



"To me!" Edmin croaked, knowing that none could hear him. He dropped to his knees and covered his head with his hands and waited for death.



Edmin's cry was like a clear bell to the two warriors who flanked him. In fact it was the only sound they heard. Neither warrior hesitated. They ignored their own attackers, spun in a full circle and together performed the Lanmouroul whirling attack. The blades of their great axes met with a clang in the center of the ogre's torso, exited through his spine, and showered the

goblinoids behind him with intestines and gore. The warriors stopped the swing of their blades and stood looking in horror at the dying ogre, and regretting the necessity of the attack. Spattered with blood, the goblinoids around the ogre stood in shock and stared at the two pieces of their champion.



Wondering why he still breathed, Edmin slowly lowered his hands and looked up at the carnage before him. "The circle be praised." Edmin whispered. With the lull in the battle Edmin's whisper could be heard by the surrounding goblinoids and they cringed slightly when they realized what he had said. Edmin saw their reaction and suddenly knew how to seize the day. "THE CIRCLE BE PRAISED!!!" he shouted and his voiced echoed across the desert. With each return of the statement the intensity increased and the goblinoids began clasping their hands over their ears and squealing in pain. Warriors around Edmin, and those still battling far away, drew back in confusion when the goblinoids began dropping their weapons and falling to the ground. The warriors heard nothing, the creatures before them heard too much. The din from Edmin's shout continued to grow, and fragile goblinoid eardrums began to burst. Blood seeped past the fingers of the goblinoids closest to Edmin and they began to beg for mercy from the 'Great Cleric Man'.



"Finish them," Edmin ordered, "and show no mercy. They are not creations of the Nine. They are abominations."



The slaughter took over two hours and when the cleansing bonfire had been lit, the warriors collapsed in exhaustion and shock. Many only sat and stared, others wept quietly, and a few wandered aimlessly with a glaze over their eyes. The sergeant-captain knew he should direct the men to dig, to make camp, to prepare the evening meal - anything to keep their minds from

replaying the battle. He also would have been dazed by the butchery, but each time despair set in, he looked over at Edmin and remembered why he must go on. The fighting, the death, ... it was detestable, but, ...it was necessary.





"Dead!! Dead!! One thousand dead and only you return?!" The goblinoid chieftain shouted at Kiekold. "My army slaughtered and the ogres defeated... and you return?! How does this happen? Shaman, how is it that one battle against less than two hundred causes the destruction of our clan" The chieftain turned away from Kiekold who glared at his fate reader. "We can no longer self-sustain! We are driven to the wilderness once again, and you said we would be victorious with few casualties!"



"Master," Shaman began, "the foes were followers of the Nine. Their faith carried the day. Your army believed only in you.... Perhaps we did not spring up from the slime, muck, and mire as you say. I say it is better to believe in something greater than yourself....." The last was said as a crude sword blade erupted from his chest, spraying blood onto the chieftain's feet.



"He speaks lies, master! I know you are our lord and master! I have killed this weak one. He speaks only lies!" Kiekold cried out as he trembled beneath the chieftain's gaze. Kiekold dropped to his knees and began to lick the blood from between the chieftain's toes.



"You, little one. You have shown wisdom and courage. You will serve as captain of the left guard." the chieftain said. Then, growing hungry, the chieftain put the battle behind him and went to find someone to have for dinner. Kiekold stood proud and followed the chieftain with all three of his men (it was all that was left of the left guard but, they were his men!!).



*



"I showed fear, Rathmulg. I showed fear and still they protected me. I will never understand," Edmin said as he looked over his remaining men. Eighty remained and twenty of those severely wounded.



*You were a leader, Edmin. You stood and directed and motivated those men in the beginning. And when it began to fall apart, it was your inspiration that grouped them into nines. Then, when the end was near, you called to the Nine, and they answered you!*



"You enhanced my voice, Rathmulg, it was not the Nine. You redeemed yourself at the end and sought to make me look good."



*No, Edmin, I protected you from the little ones, true. I guided your hand to make the kills, yes. Had you not dropped me I would have stopped the ogre's blade, but, I did not augment your voice.*



"My liege, if I may have a word?" the sergeant-captain requested. Edmin only nodded at the warrior. 'My liege, though the battle and aftermath were horrific, the company

lives! And you, sire, you led us through the worst we've ever seen. Your guards, Lotron and Milon, told me how you cried out the legendary priest call, 'to me'! They were grabbed by Moruk and commanded by him to come to your aid. They marveled at your instinct to duck when you did! They claim it was your spell that crippled the enemy. My lord, you have rekindled my faith, my life is yours!"



Edmin could only chuckle, "Mattweh, your flattery surpasses that of the mighty Rathmulg." Then, still smiling sighed, "Oh Mattweh, what to do and what to believe." Edmin's chuckle broke through the cloud in Mattweh's mind at once calming him and strengthening him. He felt ready again. Ready to go on. Ready to put the horror behind. He also chuckled. Then he laughed quietly, and then he laughed aloud. Edmin saw the change in Mattweh and looked around at

the men. "Well, I may not be what they think, but for now I can give them what they need." he thought. He began to roar with laughter and soon had all eighty of the hardened, disillusioned, battle-weary warriors roaring with him. One hundred and sixty men died that day, and eighty were reborn in laughter. Laughter inspired by faith.



Will there be a part three? Stay tuned to the Broken Sword channel!



Barrett



*



"The Roll of the Dice: Part II"



by



The Fellowship of the Broken Sword



(What follows is the first part of an "add-on" story which is still running on our bulletin board. I intended for it to be a serious, in-character story, but it quickly degenerated into a satire on many of the eccentricities of our old gaming group. Our authors are B. Fox [Myloeh, Jake A.], Bill R. [Hobar, Scuz], Rex H., John R. [Naugrim], Marty [Martek], Jeff

[Barrett] )



The strange story continues...



The sage Mirrow looked up from his writing at the half-orc who stood in the doorway to his chambers. He was clad in chain armor, and bore a large assortment of nasty and wicked weapons. Perhaps his most dangerous asset was his face, a terribly ugly countenance by any measure. "Hello again, my old friend," the demi-human said.



"Greetings, Master Jake Armageddon. It has been quite some time since last we met. How long has it been? Two, three years?"



"At least," Jake replied with a smile. "As I recall, the death of the duke was almost four years ago. A pity how he accidentally suffered poisoning after tying himself up and falling out of his tower on his own sword twice."



"My, how time flies," the sage said wistfully as he set his pen down. "I am glad you were able to come."



"I am between assignments, actually, so I can honestly say this is a pleasure. As the Master of Assassins I am kept very busy with one meeting after another, but I felt it was time to stretch my legs and get back out in the field again. I'm sure you feel the same way occasionally."



"Of course, but my teaching and research don't permit it very often. And that is my problem now, and why I have asked you to come. You see, there is a certain halfling who has a map of mine, and it seems I have underestimated him a bit. He has my map to the tomb of Martek the archmage."



"Really? How interesting," the assassin replied. "And I am to retrieve it for you, eh? Relatively simple assignment for a man of my position, wouldn't you say?"



"Ah, it is a bit more than that. I want you to let him enter the tomb and recover any treasure that may be there. I would like you to then 'relieve' him and his companions of it, however you deem appropriate. I will, of course, split anything you recover 50-50. Are we agreed?"



Jake shook his head. "I realize you must have done a great deal of work on the research, but I'm afraid 60-40 is a bit more fair. Acceptable?"



Mirrow looked at him carefully and smiled. "You are a hard man, er orc, to deal with. I agree to your terms." The two shook hands and Jake turned to leave. "One more thing. Please kill two swordsman for me; they failed me in retrieving the map. And if possible, I would enjoy having the halfling's head as a trophy."



"Consider it done," the assassin replied. "Anything for a buddy."



*



The four companions traveled through that day and for the next three before they finally reached the edge of the desert. The Evil Forest of Killer Wolves and Bandits lay before them and stretched for miles before it ended at the Dragons Teeth Mountains. Setting up camp for the evening, Myloeh turned to the others. "Well, I expect the wolves anytime now," he said as he drew his short sword.



"Aye," Hobar grunted in response. The dwarf was busily sharpening his battle axe and watched the woods expectantly.



"You know, I've always wondered why wolves attack every time we go through a forest. Is it a rule or something?" Throckmir asked.



"Who knows," Vic replied as he juggled his daggers. "Just so long as I get to kill something soon."



Suddenly the woods around them were filled with the howls and snarls of angry, hungry wolves. "That didn't take long," Myloeh said as he slipped into the shadows.



[Myloeh ]



*



Jake made his way across the desert. He was cautious, however, he realized he needed to close the distance between himself and his pray without getting too close, of course. While he travelled, he worked out his plans.



Unknown to Jake, on a bluff he had recently passed, a figure watched his progress. After Jake was well out of sight, the figure, who was dressed all in black, took his black horse by the reigns and followed at a safe distance. As he went, he looked for more high points where he could keep an eye on Jake without being seen.



[Martek]



*



"I mean, really...it makes no damn sense," said Throckmir easily as his Tanto cold steel battleaxe severed the spine of the fifth wolf. The pile of canine corpses continued to grow as the three travelers hacked and slashed. Vic stopped for a moment and thought about the situation. He nonchalantly flicked a dagger which sunk to the hilt in a startled wolf's eye. "Hobar, where is Myloeh? You see...that's exactly what I've been saying..."



One particularly large wolf, a grizzled veteran, singled Mallow out and lunged. His gnashing jaws clamped down on the drunken dwarf's throat, bowling him over. Hobar's gnarled knuckles wrapped around the wolf's throat and the two began the dance of death, writhing in the muck and soft peat. As Vic and Throckmir raced to his aid...the trap was sprung!



[Naugrim ]



*



Myloeh looked down from his perch which was about twelve feet up in the large tree. He had quietly climbed up and balanced himself on a large branch, placing his back to the trunk to steady himself. He pulled out his sling and loaded it with one of the small rocks he had collected and placed in a pouch on his belt. "Well, let the games begin," he said quietly to himself as he watched his companions brace themselves for the attack.



As the wolves swarmed over the camp he nonchalantly took shots at them, striking several wolves and felling a few. His three companions seemed to be doing well, hacking through the wolves with careless ease. Suddenly a large wolf burst through the ranks and seized Hobar by the neck, pinning him. Luckily, the dwarf was protected by his leather throat collar, but his luck would hold only for so long. "Well, here's my chance to save the day," Myloeh said as he began to

whirl his sling and take aim. Stepping away from the trunk to get a better shot, his foot slipped out from under him as he released the stone. "Uh-oh," he muttered as he began to flail for balance. The stone whizzed into the fray, striking Vic right between the eyes, knocking him out. "Saints preserve me!" Myloeh yelled as he fell off the branch and landed on a wolf with a loud thud, stunning both of them.



[Brian ]



*



Hobar grabbed the upper and lower jaw of the wolf clamped about his neck. With a great heave there was a spine tingling sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. Hobar was left standing holding two halves of the torn apart wolf.



Meanwhile, Myloeh had grabbed two handfuls of wolf hair as he had landed. The wolf began to dance around and try to rid himself of the halfling on his back. He bucked an twisted, but the halfling held on for dear life. Seeing this sight, Throckmir lost his usual serious demeanor and began to let loose with belly laughter that can only be heard from a dwarf who has seen something entirely too funny.



The remaining couple of wolves began a retreat upon seeing the leader of the pack torn into pieces by Hobar Mallow. Myloeh finally managed to grab a branch and leave the back of the wolf. The wolf turned as if deciding whether to attack his former rider. Myloeh looked the wolf in the eyes and swallowed hard. It was pure halfling grit that allowed him to keep his sphincter and bladder under control. The wolf turned and headed for the woods upon seeing that the rest of the

pack had fled.



Myloeh jumped down from his branch and said, "Did you see me stare down that enormous wolf. Surely it was my stare that made him realize that he had tackled the wrong halfling. You may save your expressions of gratitude for my providing salvation from that pack of mongrels."



Vic began to stir, and rubbed his forehead. "What hit me?", he questioned.



"Not now Vic," chirped Myloeh. "You all know that the bandits should be along any minute. You better take a moment to prepare."



[Scuz ]



*



While Vic rubbed his aching and slightly bloodied head, Hobar busily wiped the gore off his armor and scowled at the halfling. "Myloeh, I ought to bash your brains in! You try that kind of stunt one more time-" he began but was interrupted by Throckmir's hysterical laughter. "And you," Hobar said to his fellow dwarf, "Shut up!" Throckmir only laughed harder at this, causing Hobar to turn a bright shade of crimson as his blood pressure rose steadily.



"Greetings, gentlemen. I hope we are not disturbing your revery," a dapper dressed woodsman said as he entered the campsite, stepping over several wolf carcasses. He held a rapier lightly in one hand and wore a long bow slung over one shoulder. He was also accompanied by ten other bandits, none of whom looked particularly friendly, and all of whom held bows or crossbows pointed at the group. The bandits slowly circled the group, preventing any easy escapes.



"May I help you gentlemen? Care for some tea?" Myloeh asked, smiling up at the man as he hid his dagger behind his back. The other three of his group held their weapons, ready for what might come.



"Ah, the question is, may we help you? It appears that you are carrying an overabundance of wealth, and we would like to free you from that burden," the leader said with a wicked smile.



"Oh, that is quite alright. We wouldn't want to impose," Myloeh replied.



"No, we wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," Throckmir said as he patted his axe.



"Yes indeed, don't worry about us," Hobar said as he bared his teeth and growled.



"Hey, I just want to kill something," Vic said as he wiped the blood off his face. The other three shook their heads in disgust.



"Well then, let me put this another way. Your valuables or your lives. I simply insist," the leader said.



Hobar thought for a moment. "How about we keep our valuables and you get the halfling's life?" he asked with true sincerity.



"Hey!" Myloeh objected loudly.



"Enough game playing. What will it be?" the leader demanded.



[B. Fox]

*



"Well, what's it going to be gentlemen? Your valuables or your lives?" The odds were certainly not in their favor as the bloodied group surveyed the bandits. The most pressing problem was

the damnable wooden shafts that would rip into their number before the fight really began. Hobar stared defiantly at the leader as he mentally assessed each bandit. The one closest to him was young and obviously nervous. A bead of perspiration ran into his eye and he was struggling not to let down his guard and wipe it away. Vic was spitting the blood that ran freely from his forehead into his mouth, and hefting his blade. Myloeh had stopped twiddling his daggers and it appeared he was about to let fly while Throckmir's eyes began to slowly glaze.



What? Glaze? "Well, here we go," thought Hobar. It seemed the decision was being made as the berserker rage began to seize Nuagrim. Before anyone had a chance to say or do anything, Throckmir screamed out a curse, "May the shavings of a thousand battleaxes fill your breeches!!!!" and hurled himself at the bandit leader.



[Naugrim ]





*



Jake looked around the inn at all of the bloodied and mangled bodies which surrounded him. It had been a terrible fight, with Jake almost suffering a small callous on his sword hand from all of the hacking and slashing he had done. Inspecting his injury he said out loud, "Well, I suppose none of them did actually know any more than the fact that the group had passed through here when they left the desert. I guess I should try to be a bit more trusting in the future." Wiping his bastard sword off on the apron of the dead innkeeper sprawled across the bar, Jake finished his glass of wine and left the inn, humming a light tune to himself. The trail was still warm, and the master assassin hated to let them get too far ahead of him...



[B. Fox]



*



When Throckmir suddenly attacked the bandit leader, Myloeh knew that it was a long shot for any of them to walk out of this one unscathed. Before any of the arrows or bolts began to fly, Myloeh wrapped himself in his cloak of elvenkind and instantly blended into the shadows and foliage which ringed their campsite. Several arrows whistled passed him, many striking the trees and earth around. He breathed a sigh of relief after he managed to move behind a tree, allowing him to look back into the campsite to see how his comrades were doing.



Throckmir was busily engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the bandit chief, apparently protected from their arrows because of the proximity of their leader. Hobar, however, had taken one crossbow bolt to his left arm, apparently before he had been able to raise his shield. He was busily hacking at several of the bandits, screaming a wide variety of dwarven obscenities at the same time. "Man, that dwarf has a foul mouth," Myloeh whispered to himself in amazement.



Vic, however, was another story. Moving with lightning speed he had thrown several daggers, dropping several bandits in a matter of seconds. The remaining bandits, however, opened fire on him, piercing him with many arrows and bolts. Myloeh watched as the big man fell backward, looking like some sort of god-awful pin cushion. When one of the bandits ran forward to finish him off with a sword, Myloeh released his sling, striking the bandit squarely in the temple, killing him instantly. Meanwhile, Hobar had managed to fell three more bandits in spite of the fact that his arm was seriously injured.



"Run away! Run away!" the bandit leader bravely commanded.



"Not so fast!" Throckmir said as his battle axe cleaved the leader's head from his shoulders. Seeing this, the few remaining bandits turned to run. One of them caught a sling stone to the back of his head and fell head-over-heels before coming to rest in a heap. Myloeh pulled back his cloak and ran to where Vic lay, shaking his head as he looked down on his new-found friend covered in dust and his own blood.



"Don't get any clever ideas, Myloeh. We all share what ever loot the big guy had," Hobar said as he and Myloeh began to strip the man of anything of value.



"Such a pity," Throckmir said as he searched the body of the slain leader. "Don't forget about me though," he added looking over his shoulder at the other two.



"Hey, I'm not dead yet," Vic moaned as he suddenly sat up. Myloeh jumped back in embarrassment, while Hobar simply shrugged. "Man, you guys are sure efficient in your looting skills. I barely hit the ground before you were on me like vultures on a carcass."



Hobar smiled from the compliment while Myloeh began handing back the many items he had taken and hidden in his many pockets. Vic began plucking out the arrows and bolts, wincing as he extracted each one. "Good thing I have so many hit points," he laughed. "Did you see the way my daggers took those guys out? Good kills, good kills."



After nursing their wounds the group returned to their sleep, waiting for dawn to come and bring them that much closer to the tomb of Martek....



[B. Fox]



*



Jake moved silently toward the camp where the party was just beginning to stir, preparing to make the final short ride to the entrance of the archmage's tomb. Jake had watched the party deal handily with the wolves and then the bandits, impressed by their efficiency. He smiled in appreciation at the attempted looting of their downed comrade, a move he would have done in a minute. Actually, he thought, of course I would have cut his throat first to make sure he was dead. It was then that he decided to improvise a bit on the original plan that the sage Mirrow had given him. With this group the plan could very well work even better than the original, and be twice as much fun.



Moving silently through the shadows Jake suddenly appeared at the edge of the camp just as the group was preparing to mount their ponies and Vic his horse. "Good day, fellow travellers," he said, hiding his face in his hood.



"Good day to you, sir," Myloeh said with a bow, all the while trying to peek under the hood to get a glimpse of the stranger's face. "How may we be of service?"



"Ah, I am a weary traveller simply hoping for company. I was wondering if I might join your little troupe on whatever adventure you may be seeking," Jake said with as much friendliness as he could muster, a very difficult thing indeed.



"Sure!" Myloeh said jumping on his pony.



"Okay with me," Hobar replied as he eyed the myriad of weapons the stranger bore which included a scimitar, at least five daggers, a light crossbow, multiple shurikens, a blow gun, a garrote, several sinister looking potion bottles, and a strange ball with a small piece of string sticking out of the top.



"Suit yourself," Throckmir said with a shrug. "By the way, what is your profession?"



"I'm a simple cleric," Jake replied shamelessly.



"I say we kill him," Vic snarled drawing several daggers and preparing to throw.



The other three party members shook their heads in disgust. "You idiot, don't you realize that he was probably sent to help us in some way, and that we will certainly need him in the tomb? Gods, you are paranoid," Hobar spat in disgust. "By the way, stranger, what is your name?" he asked.



"You can call me Jake," the assassin replied. As the group headed off towards the tomb, Jake laughed quietly to himself. Just like taking candy from a baby, he thought.



The group had traveled together for a couple of hours before Hobar called the group to a stop in order to check the map. While they moved around to stretch their legs Vic said, "You know, I forgot I was badly wounded. Hey, cleric, why don't you use a few of those 'priestly' spells of yours and heal me up?"



Jake flinched a bit as he realized the flaw in his plan. "Uh, sure, sure I can," the half-orc said nervously. Moving toward Vic he began to mumble nonsense phrases and waving his arms about.

"What god did you say you worship?" Hobar asked, arching an eyebrow at the assassin.



"Uh, what god do you worship?" Jake asked, stalling for time. He knew nothing of religion, except for possibly a fair amount of demonology (having minored in it at assassin college).



"I worship Gronk, the dwarven god of drunken axe-wielding berserkers, of course," Hobar replied without hesitation.



"What a coincidence! So do I!" Jake exclaimed. Both Hobar and Throckmir looked at each other and shrugged.



"I'm still bleeding over here," Vic said crossly.



"I see that your wounds are very severe," Jake said as he examined the big man. "Perhaps you should drink one of my potions of extra-healing," he added cunningly. Handing a black bottle with a skull and crossbones label on it to Vic, he watched as the warrior gulped it down.



"Ugh!" Vic spat. "That tasted like crap! Man, where did you get that -" and he fell flat on his face in the dirt.



Checking his pulse, Myloeh looked up at the cleric. "He's stone cold dead," said in surprise. The two dwarves turned toward Jake, both drawing their axes. Myloeh sniffed the bottle, winced from the smell, and looked curiously at the label.



"Let's not be too hasty," the assassin said as he placed his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. "I can't help it that his wounds were so severe that the potion sent him into shock," Jake said with as much sincerity as he could muster.



"Hey, is that my dead brother?" a man perfectly resembling Vic said as he approached the party. Everyone stood there staring slack-jawed at the man. Bending down he quickly stripped the body clean and immediately equipped himself with all the gear.



"Exactly who are you?" Throckmir demanded.



"The name's Vic. I'm Vic's twin brother. I claim his gear by birthright," the big man said unflinchingly. "I sensed his death and came immediately."



"Wow, this is weird," Myloeh blurted out.



"Hmmm," Hobar mumbled as he took a long drink of ale from his flask of everfull drink.



"You know, in a strange way this is all somehow amazingly predictable," Throckmir said.



"Let's ride. We're burning daylight," Hobar shouted as he took another long pull from his flask.



Thankful that the heat was off him for now, Jake followed the party. This won't be as easy as I had hoped, he thought.



[Jake]



*



"Well, Mr. Vic, exactly what do you do?" Myloeh asked as they rode along, hoping to start an interesting conversation.



"I am a mage," Vic responded after he stopped picking his teeth with a dagger. "I specialize in fire elemental magic."



Myloeh felt a sudden chill pass through his heart and noticed the same reaction in the two dwarves. He did not know why he felt this way, but he knew something was terribly wrong. Shrugging it off as a case of the heebie-jeebies, Myloeh turned to the cleric. "Well, cleric, I hope your spells turn out to do more for us than you have demonstrated so far!" he said with a laugh.



"They will, they will," Jake said with a smile, showing his pointed teeth. "Don't you worry your little head about that. You'll see soon enough."



Deciding that conversation was not making the trip more pleasant, Myloeh chose to keep his mouth shut. Looking ahead through the forest, he spied what looked to be the ruins of an ancient building of some sort, covered in vines and vegetation. Checking his map and then taking a long drink of mead from his flask, Hobar announced, "This is it! Ready your gear, and prepare to get rich!"



[Myloeh ]



*



As Throckmir checked the edge on his blade for the 42nd time, he thought to himself, 'Something just isn't right'. He glanced warily over his shoulder at the dark stranger, Jake. Jake was concentrating on a rather odd looking club and a bluish-metallic flask with the word 'Busch' inscribed on it. 'Odd' thought Throckmir, 'very odd'.



[Naugrim]



*



* and then a rift in time occurred as the lives of the gathered were put on hold....*

In another universe a battle between highschool and college aged roleplayers commensed with the so-called warriors beating the hell out of each other with plastic bats and korean katanas....

forty-five minutes later, bruised and bleeding, sucking down Busch beer and jalapenos, the roleplayers began again....

*"Now what the hell were we doing again", Vic asked?*



*



The motley crew were somewhat quiet as the ruins came into view. Off in the distance, a cooking fire was evident. Hobar put away the map he had been viewing. He signaled for some of the group to fan out as they approached the ruins. "Myloeh and I will approach the ruins directly, the rest of you circle around in case there is any trouble," Hobar directed. Jake, Throckmir, and Vic each looked at each other and shrugged. They split up into different directions as they approached the ruins thinking to themselves that although it had never been decided openly, Hobar appeared to have taken leadership of the group.



Hobar and Myloeh rode the pony straight towards the center of the ruins and the origin of the smoke rising out of the center of the few collapsed buildings. The ruins sat at the base of a steep, shear cliff whose rocky face jutted out of the ground straight up for a couple hundred feet. The ruins appeared to have been a small outpost consisting of 4 or five buildings at most. Most of these buildings had long since collapsed having been eroded by time. As the two rode toward the ruins, Hobar spoke quietly to Myloeh. "Myloeh, keep a sharp eye on that Jake character. I don't trust him and I have a strong suspicion that Vic's death was not an accident."



"He gives me the creeps," Myloeh responded.



Once the two got closer to the ruins, a small fire and tent became obvious at the center of the collapsed buildings. The sound of a pick ax hammering into stone could be heard coming from the largest of the four collapsed buildings. Hobar and Myloeh moved to the center of the buildings next to the fire. "Hellooo there," Hobar called out.



The sound of the pick ax ceased and very fit older gentleman stepped out from the building. He was sweaty and only wearing breeches and a pendant of the sun about his neck. "I have no valuables and only a very little food. You are welcome to that if you like."



Hobar and Myloeh looked at the fire and noticed that a rabbit was on a spit cooking over the coals. "We are not interested in your possessions old man," Hobar called out. "You are a long way from civilization and there are bandits about. What brings you out here old man?" continued Hobar.



The old man looked over the stout dwarf and the diminutive halfling and seemed to relax slightly having decided that they were not much of a threat. "I am Astrel, and I am out here doing some research on the people who once lived here. I guess you could say I'm engaged in a favorite hobby of mine, archeology. The bandits have already picked over my belongings and decided that I have nothing of value."



Myloeh jumped down from Hobar's pony and walked straight up the stranger and extended his hand. "Myloeh Stout Higgins the IV at you service sir." Hobar rolled his eyes at the boldness (or was it stupidity) of Myloeh around strangers. Oh well, he thought. Myloeh's ways had served him well thus far.



"May a strong light guide you to good health and a prosperous future," answered Astrel as he shook the halfling's hand.



"That pendant looks familiar to me," continued Myloeh. "Is it the symbol of your faith, perhaps?" questioned the halfling.



"Yes young one," answered Astrel. "I am Astrel, cleric of Pholtus of the Blinding Light."





From behind a nearby building, Jake cursed under his breath. His plan was going to s--- in a hurry. He reached for some concealed darts which had been prepared for just such an occasion. Could he get this Astrel character before he did any damage to his plan? He gnashed his teeth and decided that the time was not right. He would have to rely on his glib tongue to get him by.



From a further distance, the dark character who had followed Jake, smiled as he saw the situation unfold.



Vic looked at the menacing old man and considered the bat guano gripped in his fingers. Should I attack first, he asked himself. Throckmir was quickly getting bored. These people wasted too much time. He pulled out some jerky and quickly ate to build his strength and then relieved his bladder. Now he was ready for battle.



[Hobar ]



*



As Hobar and Myloeh continued their bantering with the old fool, Throckmir chewed noisily on the jerky. He watched as Jake moved quietly behind another of the ruins, digging in his pack as he went. Vic was holding what appeared to be ...what was it...bat shat? Hmpf! This did not bode well. It seemd that Jake, and possibly Vic were going to have to be dealt with in short order. If Hobar couldn't see that then he'd better set down the flask for a spell. It was much simpler when you knew the enemy and you weren't constantly wondering if the next attack would be from your own. 'Well', thought the dwarf, 'What could one expect from a group of humans and a bizarre little halfling. It wasn't like the days of glory when the Mountain Dwarves ruled and great ballads heralded their triumphs.



As Hobar and Myloeh continued with the old fool, Throckmir lit his pipe, eyed his other companions, and recalled a favorite ballad:



Beneath our Mountain

Thin Elven wine is not for me,

For I have witnessed times when dragons roamed free.

The mountain home is where we stayed until night came,

That we might venture forth to slay

The creatures crying Takhisis, in the night

With blood that burns and bones that burst

And bodies cursed In hymn and verse.



Axe and hammer fall, and to the Gods they cry

Deliver us from our own pride and these creatures of evil design.

Rheorx come to us and bring thy might

For your warriors true have joined the fight

Holy blood of Dwarven children, mixes with that which has come unbidden.



Upon the curse of evil dragons they have ridden

Rheorx, bring forth your glory from where it is hidden.

Upon the dark plains, Draco Paladin has come.

In the form of a doddering wizard,

hiding his light like a cloud before the sun.



Meanwhile we sit beneath our mountain, waiting for night to come

Because the murder we do to the invaders, can not be seen by the sun.

My hands run forth with blood,

More than I can measure.

But like fine gold or diamonds

Its value is beyond measure.



Ranor Silverhammer



[Naugrim ]



*



Myloeh stopped talking and listened to Throckmir's ballad. When it concluded, he bowed to the dwarf. "My compliments. I did not know you to be much of a balladeer, but I am often surprised by your race. It appears that there may be a few rounded edges hidden by those beards of yours."



"Hmph!" Throckmir replied. "It's a ballad about battle and vengeance! What's soft about that?"



Myloeh raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Anyway, I liked it nonetheless. Hobar, what do you say, shall I investigate the entrance?"



[Myloeh ]



*



Hobar referred to the map that the halfling had supplied, looking for clues as to the entrance to the tomb. The map led to the ruins and ended. He had assumed that it would be obvious from there. There was some writing at the bottom of the map: "The eyes on the face are the keys to passage." Hobar was a dwarf of action and confused by such riddles. He turned to Astrel and asked, "Astrel, what can you tell us from your research of these ruins?"



Astrel had dropped his pick axe and now had a large hammer close at hand. He had become concerned that a dwarf had broken into song and was now in view at the edge of one of the crumbled buildings. He had heard some noise from nearby, possibly behind another of the crumbled buildings. "Show yourselves!" Astrel called out. "How many more are with you, Myloeh Stout Hyg'gins the IV?" Astrel asked the halfling.



"Oh, Vic, Throckmir, Jake are hiding behind those buildings over there. We thought you might be dangerous," answered the halfling with a big smile.



Hobar scowled at Myloeh. Damn that halfling, he thought. "Come ahead and show yourselves," Hobar called out to his friends, "the halfling has let your presence be known anyway." At that, Vic and Jake stepped into view along with Throckmir.



Astrel looked them over carefully. Turning to Hobar, Astrel said, "These ruins were an outpost of some sort. These buildings once housed slaves and guards. Surprisingly, none of these buildings housed a leader."



"Have you found any eyes or keys, old man?" Hobar continued.



"What silliness do you speak of, dwarf?" Astrel said as he stared back at Hobar. "You know, now that you mention it, I have felt at though I have been watched since I have arrived." Astrel turned toward the cliff face and said, "The man in the mountain watches us even now."



Hobar and the rest of the group looked toward the cliff face. Realization dawned for the first time. If one looked carefully and used his imagination, the cliff face takes on the features of a human face. The nose was a rock outcropping about 80 to 100 feet up the face of the cliff. There were two hollowed out areas roughly across from each other, even with the top of the nose resembling eyes. Down below, strewn boulders resembled a crooked smile. Hobar pulled out his flask and took a long draught.



Astrel looked at the dwarf, "You know, that is a horrible habit you have there dwarf. You obviously need some help with that drinking problem. If you wish, I can pray to Pholtus for help to break you of your reliance on that strong drink."



"Mind your own business," answered back Hobar. "I just needed a little something to dampen my throat after our long trek. I have no habit."



"That would explain why you smell like a brewery," Astrel calmly shot back.



[SCUZ ]



*



"What's that you have there?" Astrel asked, pointing to the displayed map.



"Nothing that concerns you, old man!" Vic shot back. "Just go back to digging your damn holes."



Hobar clapped his hand to face and muttered a resounding, "Doh!!" He desperately wished that Vic's parents had been sterile.



Astrel smiled and stated, "I am an old man. I am also a wise man, and I can tell that you all intend to explore the 'eyes' of the 'man'." Astrel had not been offended at all by Vic's rudeness.



"Damn!" Vic said again, this time to himself, "I'll have to try harder to insult him."



Hobar began to back away from Astrel with a scowl growing on his face, his hands tried to decide which weapon to draw as he challenged, "What do mean you can 'tell' what we're going to do? You're... you're not reading our minds are you?"



Now Astrel laughed as he realized Hobar's concern. He pointed up the mountain slope and said, "No, no, new friend, I just figured that you were going to the same place the halfling is."



Hobar glanced up and saw that Myloeh was already beyond the sheer wall at the foot of the mountain. From where Hobar stood, Myloeh looked like a fuzzy piece of meat caught in the 'man's' teeth. Now Hobar cursed and headed for the mountain.



"Wait," Astrel called, "let me gather my things and I'll come with you." Though Hobar tried to say no (several times) somehow Astrel was packed and ready before anything else happened.

"Ok, I'm ready," Astrel said and headed for the mountain. He stopped when he realized that no one was following him. "What?" Astrel queried. He turned and noticed everyone looking slightly above and beyond him. "Oh, " he realized, "is this what concerns you?" Jake gasped (quietly) as Astrel drew the two-handed sword out of it's shoulder sheath with a loud "shring!!" and held it out for all to see. It shined in the sun's light, making the runes that covered the blade that much easier to see. The hilt looked to be made of gold with six inch spikes projecting off of the cross guard. The grip was covered in shark's skin (everyone knew this even though half had never seen a (water) shark), and the pommel was a dragon's claw gripping a large ruby. "Well," Astrel chuckled, "you didn't really think I was just a cleric (like Jake) did you?"



[Barrett ]







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